Accept these images for what they are— Out of the past a fragile element Of substance into accident. I would speak honestly and of a full heart; I would speak surely for the tale is short, And the soul’s remorseless catalogue Assumes its quick and piteous sum. — Robert Penn Warren, from “San Francisco Night… Continue reading Robert Penn Warren
Woke up with my mouth on the rail again A minute’s more sleep and the train would’ve curbstomped me into oblivion, my scattered teeth a star show for the tunnel rats We are all a second and centimeter away from being art — Paulie Lipman, from “Sometimes the Light at the end of the Tunnel… Continue reading Paulie Lipman
This is the force of faith. Nobody gets what they want. Never again are you the same. The longing is to be pure. What you get is to be changed. — Jorie Graham, from “Prayer,” Never (HarperCollins Publishers Inc, 2002) Notes: written as a turn-of-the-millennium poem for the New York Times Op-Ed page, and was… Continue reading Jorie Graham
You return when you feel like it, like rain. And like rain you are tender, with the rain’s inept tenderness. A passion so general I could be anywhere. You carry me out into the wet air. You lay me down on the leaves and the strong thing is not the sex, But waking up alone… Continue reading Linda Gregg
Letter [December to Persephone] Am I the only one to notice the soft layer of haze above snow? You say you see butterflies in the skeleton pelvis, well, what about the larger hand of the clock? Or a cauldron for boiling water? Did you, do you ever stop falling? I repeat your name … Continue reading Rachel Zucker
His sadness was of the kind that is patient and without hope. ― William Maxwell, So Long, See You Tomorrow. (Harvill Pr, May 1998) Originally published 1979.
Waters, hypnotic, long after moonset, murmur Under your window, and Time Is only a shade on the underside of the beech-leaf Which, upward, reflects a tiny refulgence of stars. What can you dream to make Time real again? I have read in a book that dream is the mother of memory, And if there’s no… Continue reading Robert Penn Warren